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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23723725">Learning Curve</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurnIt0ff/pseuds/TurnIt0ff'>TurnIt0ff</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Internalized Homophobia, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Pre-Mission Connor, Sexual Content, hook-up app, referenced conversion therapy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:41:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,695</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23723725</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurnIt0ff/pseuds/TurnIt0ff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"He hadn’t told Connor much of anything. Not even his name. But that was fine, because that was what people used this kind of app for, right? Anonymity. Secrecy. Sneaking around in the dark. That was why Connor was here, too."</p>
<p>Under the thumb of his parents and the counselors who want to change him to make God proud, all eighteen year-old Connor McKinley wants to do is regain some shred of control over his life. In rural Utah, his options are limited.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Learning Curve</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Day 8 of the #BOM10DayChallenge.<br/>Heed the warnings, things get a little bumpy on this ride.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Springville was an hour outside of Farmington. The meeting place had been decided by <i>him,</i> not by Connor. He told him it was because it was far enough from where he lived that he wouldn’t be recognized if someone saw them together. Not that he told Connor where he lived in the first place. He hadn’t told Connor much of anything. Not even his name. But that was fine, because that was what people used this kind of app for, right? Anonymity. Secrecy. Sneaking around in the dark. That was why Connor was here, too. </p>
<p>He was early, because of course he was. Connor had shown up early to everything for as long as he could remember — to school and recitals and even the dreaded baseball practices his dad used to make him attend — so it only made sense that his punctuality extended to his appointment to lose his virginity. </p>
<p>Now, he regretted it. The twenty extra minutes in the parking lot gave him too much time to dwell on the reality of what he was doing. His thumb started going numb from the nervous tapping against the steering wheel. It was getting dark out, the only light inside his car a haze of pink that radiated from the flickering sign above the motel. He flipped his phone over to check the time again. </p>
<p>8:03 PM.</p>
<p>He was three minutes late. </p>
<p>The cold November air was starting to make its way into the car, but he didn’t dare start it up again to turn on the heat. He had just barely enough gas in his tank to make the hour drive home, and he didn’t have money to refill it. It certainly wasn’t as if this were something he could call his parents for in case of an emergency, so he needed to be careful. Instead, he tugged the sleeves of his sweatshirt over his hands and pressed his fingertips into his palms for warmth. He was always so much colder when he was nervous.</p>
<p>A sharp pair of headlights out of the corner of his eye shifted his gaze to the rearview mirror. A silver truck pulled into the lot behind him, veering left to park outside the main office. Connor held his breath as watched. The driver’s side faced away from him, so he couldn’t make out much from his perspective. The man was tall, Connor noted as the top of his head peeked over the roof of the truck when he stepped out, but that was all he could see. He heard the muffled bell on the office door as it swung open and the man disappeared inside. </p>
<p>He could still back out if he wanted. There was still time. He could peel out of the parking lot right now while the man was still inside, before he even noticed him. He could speed home, tell his parents he had decided not to spend the night at Steve’s, lock himself in his room, delete that <i>stupid</i> app from his phone and forget this night ever happened. Maybe God could still forgive him, on the off chance that he was paying him any attention. </p>
<p>His window of opportunity closed as quickly as it had opened. The beep of a car lock startled him and he looked up to see the man was walking toward him in the rearview mirror. Connor froze. He kept his back ridgid against the seat, eyes facing forward as the shadowed figure drew nearer. He pulled in a quick breath as he brushed past Connor’s car, seemingly unaware of the person inside as he made his way to one of the vacant rooms on the ground level. Connor didn’t move. He didn’t look away. He watched silently as the man fumbled with the key for a moment, pausing briefly to glance over both shoulders before he entered the room and shut himself inside. </p>
<p>Connor breathed out. Once. Twice. His phone buzzed in his lap, making him jump. </p>
<p><b><i>Room 107,</i></b> was all it said. </p>
<p>Connor stared down at the message. His thumbs danced over the keyboard, struggling for a response and perhaps stalling just the slightest. </p>
<p><b><i>Ok :)</i></b> No. No, the smiley face was too much. Delete. </p>
<p><b><i>Ok.</i></b> Ugh. No. </p>
<p>He let out a deep breath, his bouncing knee making the whole car vibrate. </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <i>Just got here. </i>
  </b>
</p>
<p>Connor closed his eyes and hit <i>send</i> before he could let himself think about it. There was no backing out now. </p>
<p>His legs and his hands shook as he stepped out of the car. He gave himself a brief onceover in the reflection of his window, flattening a hand over his messy curls. He looked underdressed and a bit too skinny, but otherwise okay, he supposed. He wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to look like for things like this. He’d sprayed three spritzes of cologne instead of two after his shower, and he found himself suddenly hyper aware of the scent as he approached the door, hoping it wouldn’t be too much.</p>
<p>His fist hovered over the door. He couldn’t bring himself to knock. He could see his breath coming in tiny puffs in the cold air and his teeth chattered together for reasons that probably didn’t have all that much to do with the temperature. By the time he mustered the courage to raise his hand a second time, he heard a lock shift from the other side and the door pulled open. </p>
<p>He was… old. </p>
<p>Not <i>old,</i> necessarily, but certainly older than Connor. He looked to be about his father’s age, maybe a few years more. Judging by his quick assessment of the salt-and-pepper hair, the buttoned-up cardigan, and the clean-trimmed facial hair, it almost looked as if he could have been a friend of Connor’s father. Despite the circumstance, he took half a moment to send up an inappropriate prayer of thanks that it was not. </p>
<p>“I’m Connor,” he supplied stupidly as he began to shift under the silence.  The man was staring down at him with a look of intrigue and something else Connor couldn’t place. He wondered if he should reach out for a handshake, but he decided against it. </p>
<p>“Come in.” The man’s voice was low and gravely that left no room for argument. Connor hesitated for only a moment before he stepped in. </p>
<p>He swallowed hard as the door clicked shut behind him, followed by the lock shifting back into place. Connor didn’t turn around. </p>
<p>“Do you want something to drink?” He crossed in front of Connor, kicking his shoes off against the far wall. </p>
<p>“No, thank you,” Connor folded his arms over his middle, “I’m not thirsty.”</p>
<p>The man glanced up at him as he retrieved his own half-full glass from the nightstand, a small smirk pulling at his lips. He reached into a black plastic bag on the bed with his free hand and retrieved a glass bottle of amber liquid. </p>
<p>“I didn’t ask if you were thirsty.”</p>
<p>Connor flushed, eyeing the alcohol.</p>
<p>“Oh. I’m only…” he stopped himself, feeling suddenly very awkward at the prospect of drawing further attention to their sizable age gap, and deciding it was probably lame to say he didn’t want to drink underage anyway. “I shouldn’t. I have to drive back.”</p>
<p>The man raised his eyebrows, tilting the bottle toward him. </p>
<p>“You planning on running out of here in a hurry?”</p>
<p>Connor flushed even harder, the tips of his ears burning intensely. He still hadn’t moved. </p>
<p>“No, that’s not— I’m just...”</p>
<p>“One drink. For me?”</p>
<p>Connor opened his mouth, then shut it. He wasn’t sure how a request to do it <i>‘for him’</i> was supposed to be convincing, considering he didn’t even know this man’s name. But he didn’t say that. He didn’t say anything. The man took a step toward him, giving the bottle a shake that he guessed was supposed to be alluring. </p>
<p>“Okay,” Connor agreed quietly, because he wasn’t sure what else to say. </p>
<p>The man seemed pleased with his response, though, and made quick work of pouring him a glass. Instead of bringing it to him, he sat down on the side of the bed and patted the mattress beside him in invitation. Connor eyed the ugly hunter-green duvet, his eyes flickering between the bed and the man on top of it, and he had the fleeting image of what it would feel like being sandwiched between the two of them. His chest inflated with anxiety, and maybe a small thrill as well, before he forced himself forward. </p>
<p>He sank down onto the bed slowly, leaving about a foot of space between them. The springs groaned under his weight and he shifted uncomfortably, accepting the lukewarm glass. He lifted the rim to his nose and gave it a sniff, immediately blinking in surprise and pulling it away slightly.</p>
<p>“Cheers,” the man said, reaching out to clink their glasses together. Connor watched in fascination as the man took the liquid in smoothly without so much as making a face. </p>
<p>Connor lifted the glass once more, bracing himself for his first ever taste of alcohol. He wondered if he should be savoring the moment or trying to forget it before it even happened. When he finally braved a small sip, he nearly choked to death, coughing against the bitter sting in his throat. </p>
<p>“First time?” the man chuckled. </p>
<p>Connor nearly choked again. <i>Yes,</i> he wanted to say, <i>on so many levels.</i> Instead, he nodded.  </p>
<p>“It’s an acquired taste,” he said.</p>
<p>Connor didn’t know how to respond to that so he just took another sip. When he tried to lower the glass, though, the man placed a thick finger under it, keeping it tilted back. Connor looked at him and read the silent command in his eyes. He drank until the man removed his finger, closing his eyes against the putrid taste. When he pulled back, the glass was nearly empty. </p>
<p>“Good boy,” there was a soft chuckle in the man’s voice as he took the glass from Connor’s hands and placed it on the nightstand next to his own. When he settled back down, he was slightly closer. </p>
<p>Connor’s stomach was starting to feel warm in a strange, unfamiliar way, and he blinked up in surprise when he felt a hand on his cheek.</p>
<p>“How old are you?” the man asked as he traced his fingertips over Connor’s skin. He swallowed. </p>
<p>“Eighteen.”</p>
<p>His index finger trailed to his mouth, scraping softly over his bottom lip before pulling it down. Connor kept his eyes fixed on the man as he pressed his finger into his mouth, his lips closing around it on instinct. This seemed to be the right move, because the man’s eyes darkened as he stared at his mouth. When he slid his finger out, his breathing was different, and the warmth in Connor’s belly had spread up into his cheeks.</p>
<p>“Take your shirt off.”</p>
<p>Okay. This was happening. <i>This was fine. </i></p>
<p>He was still so cold from before and he hoped his shivering wouldn’t be too noticeable as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head and dropped it to the bed. The man’s eyes raked over him and he resisted the urge to fold his arms over his stomach, suddenly hyper-aware of his body; all pale skin and freckles, bony shoulders and wiry muscles. Next to the well-built stranger whose sweater pulled almost taut around his arms, Connor felt suddenly inadequate. Regardless, the man seemed to find him sufficient because he scooted closer on the bed, closing the distance between them so that their thighs were touching. A large hand landed on his knee. </p>
<p>“God, you’re hot,” he heard, and then there were lips on his. He closed his eyes, more out of surprise than anything, wincing at the sharp prickle of facial scruff against his skin. </p>
<p>It was only his second kiss ever, and it was a lot different from the one he’d had at eleven, all soft and sweet on an empty playground. Thick fingers tangled in the back of his hair and Connor felt his lips being parted, a tongue pushing into his mouth. It was warm and slimy and felt unlike anything he expected, though it wasn’t entirely <i>bad.</i></p>
<p>He wondered if he should tell the man that he was nervous. That he’d never done anything before and wanted to take it slow. Maybe he didn’t want to go slow, though. Maybe he just wanted to get it over with. In the back of his mind, the sharp echo of his counselor’s voice reminded him how wrong this was. How disgusted he should be with himself. And maybe he was. A small part of him even wondered, for just the briefest moment, if the therapy had <i>worked.</i> Here he was with this attractive man, <i>kissing</i> him, yet he didn’t feel all that aroused. But as the hand on his knee began sliding steadily up his thigh, Connor shifted his hips slightly, leaning deeper into the kiss.  </p>
<p>The man’s free hand moved to his chest and his stomach, rough calluses scraping over soft skin and sending small tingles of excitement through him. Connor’s breathing fell uneven and heavy as he enjoyed the feeling of being touched for the first time. His mouth fell open against the man’s as the hand on his lap brushed over him, just briefly before pulling away. </p>
<p>“Get on your knees,” he felt the command whispered against his lips and shuddered. </p>
<p>Breathless and legs feeling a bit like jelly, Connor did as he was told, sliding onto his knees in front of the bed. By the time he was settled in between the man’s legs, he had already unzipped his pants and pulled his erection out, stroking it with one hand. Connor looked up at him. </p>
<p>“I’ve never, um…”</p>
<p>“Sucked dick?”</p>
<p>Connor cringed at the crass word choice, but nodded.</p>
<p>“I’m Mormon,” he decided to say for some reason, and immediately regretted it when he realized the absurdity of making the declaration on his knees in front of a stranger’s exposed penis.  </p>
<p>“Not a very good one,” the man noted the irony, and the jab stung Connor more than it should have. </p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>It was silent for a moment and Connor felt guilty for making things awkward. He shouldn’t have said anything. He looked up when he felt the man’s finger hook under his chin. </p>
<p>“Well?”</p>
<p>He flicked his eyes down to his lap and Connor followed suit, pulling in a deep breath. He could do this. He reached forward with a hesitant hand and wrapped it around the man’s erection. Pausing for a moment as he shifted under his touch, Connor noted how strange it felt to hold one that wasn’t his own. The man cleared his throat and Connor moved his hand a bit, stroking him slowly. This wasn’t so scary. He knew what he liked when he touched himself, and he could read the man’s small noises of approval for anything else he might be doing right. He was almost getting confident in his movements when a hand appeared at the back of his head, nudging him forward. He didn't give himself time to think about it. He took a deep breath and leaned forward, taking the head into his mouth. </p>
<p>Almost instantly, the man jerked back, tugging at Connor’s hair with a yelp. </p>
<p>“Ah, <i>fuck!”</i></p>
<p>Connor pulled back immediately, wide eyes flicking up to meet the man’s.</p>
<p>“Watch the fucking teeth, kid.”</p>
<p>“Sorry,” Connor bubbled, his heart racing at the outburst, “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Connor really <i>was</i> sorry. He hadn’t meant to do anything wrong, but surely the man had to cut him some slack, he told him he’d never done this before. But there was still a twinge of irritation in the man’s eye when he looked up at him, and he felt even more guilty. He reached forward to wrap his hand around the man again, to do better this time and make it up to him, but he caught his wrist before he made contact. His grip was tight and he pulled so that Connor had to sit up on his knees. </p>
<p>“Just get on the bed,” he bit. </p>
<p>Connor scrambled to get off the floor, and the hand on his wrist yanked him forward and released him so that he had to catch himself on his hands against the bed. The man was behind him then, pushing him further so he brought his knees onto the mattress as well. It was only when he felt hands winding around to the button on his jeans that Connor objected. </p>
<p>“Wait,” he flipped around, landing on his bottom, bracing himself on his elbows. The man took the new position as invitation to crawl over his body, lowering his weight onto Connor. The stark contrast between his bare torso and the man’s fully clothed body made him feel incredibly vulnerable underneath him. He placed a palm against the man’s chest when he leaned in for a kiss.</p>
<p>“Wait,” he repeated, swallowing hard, “Can we… can we just slow down a bit?”</p>
<p>“Relax,” Connor felt the whispered words hot against his skin as the man dipped his mouth to Connor’s neck.</p>
<p>“I’m trying,” Connor whispered in reply, his hand now trapped between their chests, “It’s just that I never, um. I don’t—”</p>
<p>The man jerked back from him, making Connor flinch at the sudden movement. </p>
<p>“Are we going to talk or are we going to fuck?” he growled, and Connor felt tears stinging at his eyes. He didn’t want to do this anymore. He wanted to go home. </p>
<p>The weight on top of him and the roughness of the cheap duvet pressed into his back made him suddenly claustrophobic, the rise and fall of his chest escalating into the beginnings of what he recognized as an anxiety attack. He didn’t want to be here. He shouldn’t have done this. </p>
<p>“I have to go,” he whispered, pushing against the man’s shoulders. He didn’t budge. </p>
<p>“I drove over an hour to meet you here,” the man grabbed his wrists and pressed them into the mattress, “You told me this was what you wanted.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Connor’s voice sounded shrunken in his throat, his palms tingling with numbness at the panic of being held down, “I’m sorry, I just. I don’t want to do this anymore.”</p>
<p>But he didn’t relinquish his hold. Connor closed his eyes, a very real part of him preparing his heart for the possibility of what was about to happen. That he might lose his virginity against his will to an unkind stranger in this dingy motel room. Maybe God had been paying attention to him after all. Maybe this was his punishment for getting on the app to begin with. For giving into the thoughts. For not letting the counselors and therapists change him. Maybe this was what happened to people like <i>him.</i></p>
<p>It wasn’t until he felt the grip on his wrists release, the blood rushing back to his fingertips, that Connor realized he was crying. Sobbing, really. Maybe it was the alcohol or the adrenaline, but Connor was suddenly out of control of his emotions. He scrambled out from under the man as he pushed off of him, backing himself against the headboard. He very nearly tripped over his own feet as he stumbled off the opposite side of the bed, keeping his back to the wall. He crossed his arms in an X over his chest, fingers digging into his shoulders. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he sobbed again, though he wasn’t sure anymore that he should be the one apologizing. </p>
<p>The man grabbed Connor’s hoodie and tossed it at him. </p>
<p>“Just get out,” he barked, grabbing his glass from the nightstand and downing the rest of the liquid in one shot. </p>
<p>His shaking hands made it difficult to maneuver his sweatshirt, and he didn’t realize it was inside out until he already had it pulled over his head. It didn’t matter. Without so much as another glance at the stranger on the other side of the bed, Connor moved across the room as fast as his legs would carry him. The cold air bit his tear-streaked face the minute he stepped outside, but it almost felt good against his red-hot cheeks. He patted his pocket for his car keys, grateful that they hadn’t fallen out and got into the drivers side, locking the door quickly behind him. </p>
<p>It took several attempts to slide the key into the ignition, but once it was in, he turned it as hard as he could and shifted into drive, peeling out of the nearly empty parking lot and leaving the motel behind him.</p>
<p>He was probably a mile down the road when reality caught up to him and he realized he was in no state to be operating a vehicle. If the alcohol hadn’t subdued him, the rush of adrenaline had taken an equally dangerous toll on his body. He squinted through the tears that made all the lights on the street flare out in a blinding haze. Up ahead, he could see a small diner off the road that appeared to be closed, the parking lot barren and the lights dimmed inside. He pulled off without thinking about it, coming to a stop in front of the unlit sign out front. He turned off the ignition, unable to waste any more gas, and as the chilly air began to deep in once more, Connor cried even harder. </p>
<p>Tomorrow, he would apologize to his parents. He would tell them they were right, that he was sorry the therapy didn’t work for him, but that he wasn’t ready to give up. That he wanted to try again. To change who he was, because he hated it just as much as they did. It didn’t matter that some of it would be a lie, because some of it <i>wasn’t.</i> Connor did hate himself. He <i>did</i> wish that he was born differently, or that he hadn’t been born at all if he had to be born like this. </p>
<p>Unlike his parents, though, he would have to pretend he believed there was any hope for him yet.</p>
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